


Royal Rivalry

by SakeBottle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Embedded Images, Gen, Illustrations, Omorashi, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Politics, Porn With Plot, Public Wetting, Royalty, Sibling Rivalry, Urination, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakeBottle/pseuds/SakeBottle
Summary: Jacelynne Veltimir is well aware that her great power as the High King comes with lofty expectations. As a princess she was thoroughly trained in "etiquette" and by now is a paragon of proper ladylike behavior. When her jealous brother tries to force her from the throne that he believes is his by right, she must fight against his machinations to maintain her dignity and image as the leader of a nation. Surely such a well-mannered noblewoman as herself should have no issue contending with a full bladder for a few hours - especially not when her daily routine requires it.
Kudos: 4





	Royal Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrated by Jailor Eckman.

“Come on, how many times do I have to explain it to you?” Lynne gave an exasperated sigh as she looked up at her younger brother. “That’s not your throne. Please stop trying to sit in it.”

“I’m the King, aren’t I? The throne’s in _my_ castle. That makes it mine.”

Lynne sighed again and shook her head. “Uriel, you know damn well that is the _Bleeding_ Throne. It is for the _High_ King.” She tapped the battered gold crown on her head. “That would be me. I know you don’t like it, but it’s true. So could you just do me a favor and not sit in my chair please?”

“My castle. My throne.” Uriel just glared at his sister from his position upon her throne.

She groaned and held out her hands. “What did I ever do to you? Be born first? That wasn’t my decision.” Lynne then put a hand to her head. “Grow up already, would you? You’re a _King_. You’ve got better things to do than complain about how you can’t sit in one chair and wear this fucking thing.” She pointed at her crown again and sighed. “Dad trained you your whole life for this. You had twenty years to accept that I’d be the High King after him, and you still can’t get over it? What would he think if he were here to see you right now?”

King Uriel leaned forward and glared at his sister. “Don’t even try that with me. It doesn’t matter what he’d think. If he were here, I wouldn’t _be_ King. But he’s dead, and I’m supposed to get his titles. I deserve them. All of them.” Leaning back and folding his arms, he added, “More than you do, at least. You’re just a woman.”

Lynne took a deep breath to contain her anger. “Okay, listen… You’re my brother, Uri, and I love you, but that’s _really hard_ when you say shit like that. I know you’re better than this. Just stop acting like a child and let this go already. We’ve both got more important things to do than argue over who’s supposed to be what.”

“I’m not acting like a child. This is basic science. Men are naturally skilled rulers, and women are not. So the Crown should be mine, and I’ll let this go as soon as it is.”

The High King groaned and turned around with a dismissive wave of one arm. “I just… I can’t. I’m not going to do this.” She grabbed the crown from her head and thrust it into the arms of the nearest servant, who bowed and ran off to put it somewhere safe. “When you’re ready to grow the fuck up, you know where I am.” Then she stormed off out of the throne room and down the castle halls to her quarters.

A servant was waiting for her by the door, opening it for her when she approached and following her into the room. Lynne walked forward a little and held her arms out at her sides, the servant getting right to work at helping her step out of the ostentatious dress she had on.

“If I may, your Grace,” the servant said after working silently for a minute. “Is something troubling you?”

“Hm?” Lynne looked over at her, quickly turning back to face forward. “Oh, no. Just my brother again. I don’t know what sort of stick he has up his ass. He’s got everything he could ever want and he _still_ wants more, and he’s taking it out on me because I’ve got things he doesn’t have.”

“Your Grace?”

Lynne shook her head as her servant pulled the dress off of her. “Ah, it’s just his usual noise about how he is the one who should have become High King.” She continued undressing herself while they spoke.

“Ah… Well, please forgive me, your Grace,” the servant replied, carefully stowing the dress away. “But I do not see how King Uriel is wrong. Female inheritance is prohibited in this Kingdom, as I understand it.”

Lynne tossed the remainder of her clothes onto the bed and walked to her wardrobe clad only in her undergarments. “Yes, that is true,” she said, picking out a simple pair of tight pants and a white button shirt. “But there is no gender preference for the Crown of Blood, you see? So even though I am not allowed to inherit the Kingdom or our House, I can still inherit the title of and _be_ High King, because local laws do not apply to that. Do you understand?”

The servant nodded. “Yes, thank you, your Grace.” A moment later, she added, “Ah, might I speak freely, madam?”

“Yes, of course,” the High King said, pulling her pants up and closing the belt.

“Thank you. So then, King Uriel… He is… upset by this?”

“He is. And I understand why, of course.” Lynne slipped into her shirt and set about buttoning it up. “I even agree with him, if only a little. This city is the Commonwealth capital, and it’s in a Kingdom that would not allow me to inherit normally. So it _would_ make sense for the Crown to pass to him instead. If it passed like a normal title, he’d be the only qualified heir, after all. Now, I would argue, of course, that women are just as qualified to rule as any man is, so they should be equally able to inherit nobility and land, but it’s his law to change and as it is now I will admit that he… is sort of right.”

The servant put a hand on her chin. “If you agree with him, could you not abdicate and give him your titles instead?”

Lynne nodded and turned to leave the room, continuing the conversation as she and her servant walked through the castle halls. “I could. But I will not. I don’t want to reward his acting like a little bitch. The two of us need to work together, and the sooner he realizes he can’t get everything he wants and figures out that he needs my help, the better for both of us.”

“Why do you need him to cooperate? He is your vassal, and you are his liege.”

“Yes, that’s true, but we’re also family. And even if we don’t want to act like family, we do share this castle, which means we share many of our duties. Neither of us would be able to get anything done if we’re at each other’s throats.”

The servant stopped for a moment to open a door for the High King, this one leading into her office. Lynne took a seat at the desk and the servant spoke again. “How do you plan to make him work with you? I would think he would have more to gain by trying to undermine you, wouldn’t he?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I think if I can demonstrate… Oh, thank you.” Lynne cut herself off for a moment to accept the glass of wine the servant had offered her, taking a little drink before continuing. “Right, so if I can demonstrate to him that I deserve his respect, I think he should settle down. He’s not stupid, and he’s not a bad person. He doesn’t hate _me_ , he hates that a woman happens to have the Crown. By coincidence, the woman with the Crown _is_ me, but his problem isn’t with me specifically. See, he doesn’t like taking orders from women who are not our mother, and since I’m a woman and I can give him orders…” The High King shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I’m _sur_ e he’d feel the same way if any woman were to be High King instead of me. There’s just a little bit more to it here because he feels like he’s been cheated out of the title and he thinks it should be his, but as long as he can respect my having it, I’m sure he’ll change his mind on that too.”

“Do you have something in mind for that?”

“Vague ideas. I’m sure he’s got plans for me, though. Maybe I can turn those around on him. I already have people looking into it, anyways.” Lynne leaned back with a hand on her chin, then after a moment looked over at her servant and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and, Maria, please don’t feel like you have to pick a side in all this. You serve both me and Uriel together. Remember that your loyalty is to House Veltimir above all, not to any individual.”

“Of course, your Grace. Might I take my leave now?” Maria shuffled around on her feet a bit, visibly uncomfortable.

“Go ahead, but stay close. I may still need you.”

* * *

Uriel sighed as evening gave way to true night, the King only now deciding to pull himself out of his late father’s throne to give his limbs a much-needed stretch before retiring. He waved over a servant, and the two of them left the throne room flanked by armed guards. They headed down the same hall the High King had taken, but went beyond her quarters – within which she was likely asleep now, given the men in plate stationed by her door. The thought briefly occurred to King Uriel that this was the only door in the Kingdom that he could not force open, for on the other side of it was the only person alive who officially outranked him. His hands were balled into tight fists as he passed his sister’s quarters, and he did not relax until he reached his own.

There the servant he’d brought took his crown and stowed it safely away for when he would next hold court, and then laid out some lighter clothes before quietly taking his leave. The King worked himself out of his formal robes – there were but two things for which he did not envy his sister, and one was her large and complicated formalwear that required a servant’s help to put on or take off, while he could easily slip in and out of elaborate coats and cloaks on his own – and changed into the eveningwear his servant had set out for him. After taking a moment to deal with personal matters, the King departed from his chambers and was followed again by his guard on his way down to the laboratory operated by the castle alchemist.

The royal alchemist, he knew, could be trusted to deal in secret orders without asking questions. And he knew that the royal alchemist had recipes for all sorts of rare and exotic potions with an impressive variety of interesting effects.

After weeks of planning he was certain that one specific effect would work to his advantage – one specific effect would force his sister from their father’s throne and place upon his head the Crown of Blood, which was his by right, all without _actually_ hurting her.

Were he not concerned for the High King’s wellbeing, he wouldn’t need to make such a plan. He could have ordered any poison to get rid of her quietly and hopefully without too much pain. He could even just force her into a duel and remove her that way, for he was a far better fighter. But of course he would never do anything like that; they had their differences, and he hated answering to her, but at the end of the day Lynne was still his elder sister and he still loved her in his own way. He could never even dream of wishing _real_ harm on her, and he had a sword waiting for anyone who would try to hurt her.

So he had done research. Uriel, of course, would be Lynne’s heir until such a time as she had borne children, which meant his goal was simple: remove her from the throne before her husband discovers that sex can also be had with women. And there was only one way to do that without her needing to die – she’d have to surrender it herself. But his sister was proud and stubborn, especially in the face of his challenges. Uriel would never be able to convince her to step down.

But perhaps he could force her to. Perhaps some spell or potion could lead her to see that her brother would be better off as High King. So Uriel searched for such a thing.

What he had found was a simple potion, not even remotely harmful, that could easily turn her pride into his weapon. Thus did the King form his plan.

Her Grace the High King Jacelynne Veltimir was going to be publicly humiliated thanks to the special effects of some common plants. She would be devastated, but not hurt, and Uriel would be there to take her position when she inevitably decided that she had brought shame to the title and to House Veltimir. Then she could take on a role more appropriate for a woman, and leave the ruling to those who were actually qualified.

Everyone wins.

* * *

“What could he be planning?” Lynne sat with a hand on her chin in her office. The door was locked and the only other person in the room was her spymaster, presently dressed as a medic.

“Perhaps it is misdirection, your Grace? They are simple medicinal herbs, and if his Majesty had fallen ill lately I surely would have heard of it. The alchemist gave him plants he did not need.” The spymaster briefly flipped through his little coded notebook. “I have no reports of the King having been anywhere else last night. I suggest that his Majesty suspected that he was being surveilled and was simply attempting to mislead your Grace.”

Lynne contemplated this quietly for a moment, then eventually spoke up with a nod. “Yes, that does sound like him. Thank you for your report, raven. Have your men continue watching him. If he’s got something planned, I need to know about it before he even knows he’s planning it, you understand?”

The spymaster bowed deeply. “Of course, your Grace. Will that be all?”

“Yes, leave. Find me if something interesting comes up.”

Another deep bow, and the spymaster backed away, only turning around to unlock the door and exit, shutting it behind him.

The High King remained seated at her desk for a while, looking around with a blank expression while she considered the newest intelligence on her brother. It was unfortunate that she needed to send spies to watch him, but Uriel had his own spymaster and would surely have eyes on her. It was only fair to fight back. It was her best way to protect against whatever he’d have planned.

And what was that, exactly? He’d apparently taken an interest in alchemy lately, so perhaps he was trying to make some kind of poison. But apparently the alchemist hadn’t given him anything with which to make any. Just some plants for dealing with the flu and keeping one’s heart in good shape.

Would he even try to poison her anyways? Probably not. It didn’t seem like he wanted her dead; if that was his goal, he would need no poison, and indeed removing her in that way would seem suspicious in the eyes of the other Kings. No, if that was what he wanted, a duel was the clean and legal way to do it, and probably even the easiest. Lynne could handle herself in a fight, of course, but she couldn’t possibly compare to the skills Uriel had honed by leading armies from the frontlines. Sure, the other Kings wouldn’t like the idea of sororicide, but his legitimacy would be undeniable, and they would do nothing if they could so plainly see that the title was his by right of conquest.

But if that was what he wanted, he could have done it already. He could have done it at the moment of her accession. But he hadn’t, and it didn’t seem like he had any plans to do battle with her in the foreseeable future. So at least in that regard she was safe.

Lynne stood and stretched. Whatever his plan was, it couldn’t be much worse than some of the standard younger-brother mischief. Not if her spies hadn’t found anything. The logical conclusion from all of this, of course, was that nothing bad would happen if Lynne went to go get breakfast.

* * *

Uriel was already seated by the time Lynne appeared in the dining hall. She seemed almost out of place being followed by plate-covered guards when she herself was only wearing tight pants and a long shirt. Even her brother was fully-dressed already, including a floor-length coat in their family’s own shade of blue, missing only his crown. The High King quietly took a seat across from him and made a point of grabbing a piece of sausage from the platter he’d been going for.

“About time you showed up,” the King said. “If you’re behind schedule that puts _all of us_ behind schedule, you know.”

“The nice thing about that is,” Lynne started, now reaching for a teapot that was uncomfortably close to Uriel’s side of the table. “I’m the one who decides when anything happens in the first place. If I get up a little late, then that’s just how it is.”

Uriel watched as his sister pulled the pot over to her side and poured herself a cup. He didn’t speak until he saw her take the first sip. “Maybe so, but you just make the rest of us look bad if you can’t stick to a reliable schedule.”

“I would think you’d enjoy me being a little late to work. Shit, I might enjoy it a bit too, you’d probably get my throne nice and warm for me.” Lynne gave her tea a strange look, swirling it around a little. “Did you hire anyone new in the kitchens lately? Something’s different about this.”

“No. And even if I did it’s not like anyone can really screw up making _tea_ of all things.”

The High King looked over with one eyebrow raised, but eventually shrugged and took another sip. “Whatever.” She turned towards the nearest servant. “You, tell the cooks they need to pay closer attentions to the leaves they’re using for the tea.” Then she went back to eating in silence, topping up her drink despite apparently objecting to the flavor.

* * *

Lynne had downed a full cup of tea and half again by the time she’d finished her meal, as she always did. She stood and stretched, then headed out to the halls leading to her chambers, leaving Uriel to work on his toast and whatever else. Typical of him to complain about her showing up late but then stay well after she’d gone.

The High King’s favorite maid was waiting at her door, holding it open as soon as Lynne got close. Maria followed her inside, the guards taking up her position outside, and immediately went to the wardrobe to help the High King pick her outfit for the day.

“You didn’t bring the Crown, did you?” Lynne sat down at the edge of her bed, her legs casually folded over in the matter she’d learned was proper for a lady. From here she was looking directly at Maria’s back and could see the myriad complicated dresses in the wardrobe that had just opened.

“No, your Grace.” Maria looked over her shoulder at the High King, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Should I go get it?”

“Don’t worry about it. I will go get it when I am dressed. Speaking of which…” Lynne leaned back, using her hands for support. “What are you thinking for today, hm?”

“Ah, yes, well…” Maria essentially dove into the sea of dresses. “Perhaps,” she said, picking one out and turning around with it held out on display. “This might suit your Grace today?”

Lynne tipped her head to one side and made a little shaking motion with one hand. “Eh. That seems a bit too opulent for what I need right now. Today is mostly just court and some meetings with the advisors.” When she brought her hand down, it came to rest near her waistband for a moment before falling back to where it had been. As always, she’d not yet drained from her bladder what had accumulated overnight, preferring to delay such a thing until immediately before getting into court dress whenever possible. Her bladder had the strength that was expected of a royal lady, of course, but even so it felt fuller than usual and she was silently hoping the process of picking out clothes wouldn’t take too long.

Maria nodded, turning back around to stow the dress again. “Right. Then, might I suggest… this?” Now she held a long blue dress with the occasional bit of white trimming.

The High King sat up to inspect the clothing in Maria’s hands. What it lacked in formality it made up for by being designed to emphasize certain assets. The tailors who had put it together had no less than a physician’s familiarity with Lynne’s curves, so it did its job perfectly.

With a little nod, Lynne said, “Yes, that might work.” Rising carefully to her feet, she added, “White socks, of course, white gloves, and… Hm, perhaps a scarf or something of the sort. Something to go over the shoulders, maybe?”

“I’ll see what I can find, your Grace.”

“Good. Lay it all out, of course. I will be right back.” Lynne stepped out of the room and shut the door, motioning to the guards to stay where they were. She didn’t much want them standing immediately outside the room she was headed for, and it wasn’t all that far anyways. Her destination was just a few doors down, and was really more of an alcove than a room.

Behind a particularly-solid door lay a cramped space, with little more room than necessary to swing the door all the way open and step past it comfortably. Not that it needed to be spacious; the room was a little wooden box built separately from the castle wall, and was featureless aside from a bench and some small slits cut into the wood here and there to let light and fresh air in. The bench had a hole cut into it, and below there was naught but particularly-lush plant life.

Once she’d shut and barred the door, Lynne simply dropped her pants and took a seat, letting her body do the rest of the work. She sighed as the liquids that had been building up within her since last night left her in a stream that was particularly powerful and therefore especially satisfying.

Lynne had always been a little amused by the good feeling of emptying a full bladder. This was what truly brought everyone together – the need to urinate was universal, and all people could enjoy the pleasure of doing so when it was especially necessary. Perhaps even more amusing was how peasants might react on discovering that the High King had the same basic needs as them. Royals like herself, after all, would go to great lengths to appear as though they were above such bestial instincts as relieving themselves. Great and painful lengths. The peasants had it easy – they already lived in filth anyways, so they could just go whenever they wanted to. They’d never need to know what it was like to maintain a royally professional appearance for an important ceremony while holding an aching bladder in the presence of all the Kings and countless noble Lords; to feel for _hours_ as if about to burst, and yet still gladly drink the wine making its way around the room.

And yet that seemed a small price to pay for living in such luxury. Lynne often thought of how fortunate she was that she could read, and need never worry about food or shelter. She was the leader of an _entire country_. If the price of all that was her smallclothes getting a little wet from time to time, it was worth it.

Once she was surely empty, Lynne stood and redressed before heading back to her chambers. Maria was waiting for her there, clothes for the day all neatly laid out on the bed. The High King closed the door behind herself and stepped over to her servant. Maria simply held out one hand, which soon received Lynne’s shirt, and her pants not long after. These were quickly put away and the bare monarch was handed a set of underclothes in exchange – a low-collar shirt and a pair of pants, both of which were thin, comfortably form-fitting, and pure white; and what was to go under those as well: soft white panties and a white cloth in which her breasts were to be wrapped.

Lynne covered her lower half on her own, starting with her socks and then covering the rest, then she held her arms out to her sides so that Maria could ensure her chest would be properly contained; the maid even pulled the High King’s shirt over her head for her. Then Lynne carefully took a seat on her bed, trying not to disturb the clothes.

Then she stood and put herself nearer to Maria, taking a deep breath and holding out her arms again. The maid took the dress from the bed and got to work enclosing the royal lady within it.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Maria grunted after a little while, struggling with getting the dress to cooperate. “But this would be easier with several people.”

“Do you _need_ help?”

“N-no, ma’am, but…” There was a sigh as Maria finally managed whatever she’d been trying to do. “It would be easier.”

“Honestly, Maria, I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me. Do you want me to send you out to get people to help you or not?”

Then there was silence for a minute, and no movement. Finally, one word before Maria got back to work: “No.”

Lynne chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

And, indeed, Maria pulled through – it wasn’t long before she was tying up the last strings along Lynne’s back then circling the High King to make sure everything was right.

“How do I look?”

Maria cracked a bit of a smile. “You look great, your Grace.” Then she grabbed what was still on the bed, handing over a pair of gloves and draping a white cloth over the High King’s shoulders. “But you do need these,” she said, getting behind the High King to secure the mantle in place. “And how would your Grace like her hair?”

“Hmm…” Lynne brought a hand to her chin once both of her gloves were on, then continued up to run that hand through her long brown hair. “How about something simple? Just make that one long braid in the back.”

“An excellent choice.” Maria put her hands on the High King’s shoulders and gently guided the monarch to take a seat in a nearby chair. Maria herself pulled another chair close and took a seat behind Lynne, reaching out to collect her Grace’s hair and get to work tying it up.

They sat in silence for some time while the maid worked, until Lynne spoke up. “So how are you getting on these days?”

Maria’s hands stopped and she leaned back a little in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Your life. Tell me about how your life has been lately.”

“O-oh, well…” Maria got back to work, staring right at the hair in her hands and seeming to talk to it and not its owner. “I-I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in-“

“Nonsense. I would like to hear about you. And don’t censor yourself on my account.”

“Uh, okay, um… Hm.” The maid’s voice paused while her hands kept working. “Well, I don’t really do a whole lot. Mostly I’m doing something for you or King Uriel.”

“What about when you’re not? Surely you must do something to entertain yourself, at least.”

“E-entertain? Uh…” Maria trailed off into nervous laughter.

Lynne groaned. “Yeah, that’s my fault. Not that kind of entertainment.” Then she muttered, “Just… remember to wash your hands, I guess.”

“Oh, right, hm… Uh, well, I like to watch the artisans whenever I can. Especially the woodworkers. It’s, I don’t know. It’s fascinating to see a block of wood turn into all these beautiful things. Sculptures and furniture and everything…”

“I take it you would prefer to be an artisan, then?”

“Eh…”

“Maria. Honest answers.”

“R-right, sorry. Uh, yes, honestly, uh… this wasn’t exactly my dream job. But my mother washed clothes in this castle so I had to be a servant too.” After a pause, Maria added, “Not that I don’t like working for your family. Living in the castle is a great privilege and I am deeply grateful for your teaching me to read and write… And o-of course I’m doing something valuable for the whole Commonwealth.”

“Well, crafts are useful for everyone, too. Maybe next time you get a chance you should ask one of those artisans to show you how they do what they do.”

“Y-yeah, maybe. Oh, and, uh, your hair is done.”

“Is it? Thank you.” Lynne stood up and got herself in front of the mirror by the wardrobe, judging the reflected woman by how royal she looked. The dress looked like it fit perfectly – as it damn well should – and something about how it interacted with everything below it meant she was showing rather impressive cleavage, though some of it was hidden under the mantle draped over her shoulders.

Showing off like that did seem a little excessive to her, but there was no harm in a little tease now and then. Otherwise satisfied, Lynne turned around and thanked Maria, then stepped into her shoes and headed out of the room and down the halls to retrieve the Crown.

* * *

Lynne had only just put the Crown of Blood on her head and taken a seat on her throne when her bladder started whispering to her that she should consider thinking about making a plan to take a break eventually.

And that was unusual. She’d relieved herself not half an hour ago. She wasn’t supposed to start feeling anything for several hours yet. Perhaps she hadn’t been as empty as she thought? Whatever the reason, it was of no concern. She was royalty, and as such she would pay no mind to her bladder. It could wait however long her business would take.

With one hand Lynne motioned for a nearby servant to approach the throne, and this servant brought with him a sheet of paper covered in text organized into a list. She sat quietly while he read it out to her, casually crossing her legs and resting her head on one hand. And while the High King was being briefed on her schedule for the day, King Uriel snuck in and took his seat in a lesser throne off to Lynne’s left side. There was another, identical throne to her right, in which her husband was meant to sit and look dignified, but as he was not in the capital his seat was to be kept vacant.

The servant stepped down from the vicinity of the Bleeding Throne once he’d finished reading, and Lynne waved in the general direction of the guards standing by the hall’s main doors. These the guards pulled open, allowing a particularly well-dressed servant to step out and loudly announce that the High King was now hearing petitions, in a long-winded manner that included a lengthy declaration of all of her titles and honorifics.

What followed was a long and boring stream of well-dressed individuals kneeling before the throne and presenting Lynne with any number of issues. Anything from generals requesting more men or arms to engineers requesting tax exemptions because their projects were unprofitable. Between supplicants Lynne would occasionally work on a cup of water that someone would constantly refill for her. It seemed to be irritating her bladder, as if it were filling quicker than it was meant to, but of course that was no concern. Perhaps it might be a mild inconvenience later, but not now.

And for now, once all the requests that could be made of the High King had been made, there now came the flow of people who had proper business – men who had received new titles, and had come to the castle to participate in the ceremony that was meant to go along with such a promotion.

Mainly, a significant line of soldiers dressed up in ornamental armor and capes of all colors. Those who had distinguished themselves in battle and earned land and a noble title. For each of these men, the High King had to come down the few steps raising the throne off the ground. Then she would go through the traditional motions and speak the traditional words, then return to her seat to dismiss the new Knight before the next one came in and the process repeated.

During the downtime as the fifth such Knight left the room, Lynne leaned over to her brother and spoke with a harsh whisper. “Shouldn’t you be doing this? They’re your men, and you’re the one who gave them the titles to begin with.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t want to step on the toes of my dear elder sister.” With a roll of his eyes, Uriel added, “You’re the one they’re here to see anyways.”

Lynne shifted her legs around as subtly as she could under her dress. She’d only been seated for three hours, so why did she feel like she actually needed to pee? “Yeah, right.”

Then the next Knight came in, and Lynne went through the motions again and again, only exhausting the list of men needing titles or recognition after another hour at least. And now that she had a bit of downtime before needing to meet with her advisors – of course while Uriel would be having a similar meeting with his own council – Lynne stood and stretched, the motions making her very much aware of the dull pressure in her lower abdomen that should have been significantly less noticeable.

Something wasn’t right, but the High King just couldn’t put her finger on it. Nor could she spare the time to think about it too much – whatever was going on, her bladder would just need to cooperate until her public appearance was no longer necessary.

And so, paying no attention to that annoying organ, Lynne made her way to the dining hall while Uriel went off to do whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. Her lunch was like clockwork. Almost immediately upon taking a seat, a servant – Maria had this job today – brought her a bowl of hot soup and a large cloth to keep her dress covered.

Lynne gave a polite nod of acknowledgement once the bowl was on the table and she was properly protected from any spillage, then turned around to her servant dutifully standing at her side. “Are you working the kitchens all day, Maria?”

Maria seemed to not be paying much attention. “Huh?” She oriented herself with a quick shake of the head. “Oh, sorry, yes. Yes I am, your Grace.”

“Not anymore. I want you to come with me to the cabinet meeting.”

“You… Me?”

Lynne nodded while her spoon was in her mouth, then spoke upon removing it. “Of course. There is a lot to keep track of and a competent set of hands is always welcome.”

“Oh, uh… Yes, of course. I would be honored to attend to you during this meeting.” There was just a touch of nervousness to Maria’s voice, but Lynne either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She just focused on eating, until she was nearly done and a messenger ran into the room before bowing deeply.

“Your Grace,” he said. “Your council is ready for you.”

With a nod, Lynne set down her spoon and stood up, draping the cloth that had covered her over her chair. “Excellent. Come on then.” She gave a little wave with one hand as she started to follow the messenger to the meeting room, prompting Maria to give a little surprised squeak.

“Ah! Yes! Of course.” She hesitated for a bit, before rushing to keep up with the High King.

It wasn’t long before the two of them got to the council chambers, with the messenger holding the door open for Lynne and then Maria to enter, shutting it behind them.

There was little to this room other than its vast space, some banners, many candles, and the large table right in the center, around which several well-dressed men were seated. At the head of the table, near the wall opposite the door and in front of some particularly-expensive windows, there was a chair larger than the others, blue material padding its seat and back. All eyes were on the High King as she moved to sit down here, allowing Maria to slip away to a table at the side of the room, bringing over a cup and pitcher.

Lynne waited for Maria to fill that cup with water – the maid seemed to be shaking a little, which was to be expected in the company of so many powerful individuals – before giving a polite nod, taking a sip, and breaking the room’s silence. “What is the situation?”

The advisors all spent a minute looking at each other, until one of them stood up, looked at the papers in his hand, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure your Grace will be pleased to know that the integration of what remains of Medelor is going smoothly. King Arandar reports only minor insurrections but also requests that the Archpriest send additional missionaries to ease the incorporation of the local faith into our own.”

“I can do no such thing without further funding, your Grace,” said an old man dressed in gold-trimmed white robes, turning to look first at the standing advisor then at the High King. “As it stands we can only barely maintain the Medelorine temples that we have now. I can’t divert resources away from the heartland for this project.”

Lynne just sat back and tented her fingers as the first advisor sat down and a new one spoke up. “And _I_ can’t divert funding to the Temple,” he said. “Not while we’re at war.” He turned to Lynne. “If we sue for peace now…” Then he turned to an advisor wearing ceremonial mail. “We can still gain territory and give ourselves a few years to deal with what we’ve already accumulated since High King Iacobes.”

All the while Lynne simply listened and worked on her water. It wasn’t helping her mild urge to urinate, but since there was nothing she could do to satisfy the urge, she would just have to behave as she always would. It wasn’t particularly powerful yet anyways.

Once she tired of the old men bickering amongst themselves, Lynne firmly planted her cup of water onto the table and waited only a moment for the advisors to shut up. “The wars will continue. If additional temples are needed, leave it to the locals to determine how to fund them. The Archpriest will transition them into the standard system as soon as money is available.” Then she looked over to her left for a moment as Maria came over to refill her drink, standing with legs almost pressed together and a strained look on her face. “Anyways, what of the other Medelorine Kings? Is there any news from them?” Lynne shifted into a cross-legged position while she waited for the response, and behind her Maria now hastily scrawled out notes summarizing the High King’s statements, her weight shifting from one side to the other.

It was her spymaster, dressed in gilded leathers, who spoke up. “Nothing of import. As far as I can tell, they are in situations similar to King Arandar. There is no reason to believe they are dissatisfied with their positions in our Commonwealth, your Grace. My men hear talk of internal wars; it is likely that these Kingdoms will attack each other or one of the heartland Kingdoms, but to my knowledge they are waiting, as a courtesy, for our external wars to end. Since they do not seem to have any plans to attack King Uriel or your Grace, there is nothing out of the ordinary in this regard, but I can direct my men to attempt to lead these Kings away from the warpath if your Grace feels so inclined.”

Lynne waved one hand dismissively. “Leave them be for now. Interfere if they are likely to harm our war effort or if you suspect they will come for the capital.”

Then the spymaster nodded and sat down, and the advisors started another debate, to which Lynne was only half-listening. She just relaxed and worked on her water. The cup was empty when Maria next came over, but rather than refilling it, she leaned in close to the High King and whispered.

“Your Grace,” she started, speaking rather quickly. “I apologize for the disturbance, but… Might I possibly be excused for just two minutes?”

Lynne looked over silently, and saw Maria sweating, bent at the knees with her thighs rubbing against each other. The High King’s own bladder felt a little heavier out of sympathy, but even so she had to give a disappointing answer. “I cannot have you absent when I might need you. You must remain here until our business is concluded.”

Maria looked disappointed, but did not object. “I understand, your Grace.” Then, with a little bow, she filled the High King’s drink with shaking hands and backed away.

* * *

To say that Maria was uncomfortable would be a bit of an understatement – and not just because she was in a room full of the most powerful people in the country, though that was definitely part of it. No, it was mainly because she wasn’t used to her bladder feeling this full, despite her familiarity with working long hours with no breaks. This was different somehow. It seemed like she was getting fuller faster than normal. Significantly so.

Her breathing was heavy and unsteady, and as she stood in the corner behind the High King she performed the most subtle dance she could. She was supposed to be standing still, but her Grace didn’t seem to notice or mind that Maria’s form wasn’t quite perfect. For that, at least, she was grateful, because she was constantly shifting around with her legs pressed tightly together.

She cast a longing glance at the jug she’d left resting on a table nearby. Were it not for present company she would be more than willing to tear down her pants, hold that jug up to her lips, and unleash a powerful and ever-so-relieving stream.

A patch of warmth in her smallclothes reminded her why she shouldn’t be thinking about that. At least, she hoped it was contained to her smallclothes. She didn’t dare actually look down to check. Either way, the next leak would surely appear on her pants, for they were a rather tight fit and there wasn’t much fabric separating them from the source of any wetness.

Maria tried her best to focus on the meeting and not on what was currently happening and might later happen in her pants. After all, she still needed to make sure there was a good record of anything her Grace were to say – which, fortunately, was currently very much nothing.

In fact, High King Jacelynne seemed to be fairly bored with the whole affair. She was sitting back with her arms folded, looking like she was paying more attention to relaxing than to her advisors’ debate. And yet Maria felt like her Grace could interrupt at any moment, without any warning.

Her attention was split between that and the fact that there was one thing that was undoubtedly due to happen very soon, with a good deal of advance warning. Unfortunately for Maria, if she were to remain stuck in the council room, it wouldn’t be anything good. She lifted up one leg with a quiet groan before bringing it back down.

Having already been told to wait, Maria wasn’t keen on bothering the High King any further with her bodily problems, which in the grand scheme of things were far less important than what the council was discussing. Then again, she wasn’t quite sure what would happen were she to have an accident – which by now would certainly happen before long if she couldn’t get permission to leave – and was very much concerned that her Grace wouldn’t want in her service someone who couldn’t control her bladder long enough to avoid leaving a puddle on the floor.

Maria quietly reminded herself that she was an adult, and adults could always wait until they could relieve themselves somewhere appropriate. Sure, she’d leaked a little bit, but that was absolutely normal. Even the High King would make little mistakes from time to time, but only a child would be so weak as to urinate outright into their clothes. Maria was no child. She could hold on long enough to get back to the servants’ quarters and use her own chamberpot, or at the very least she could certainly get herself to one of the bathrooms along the way. Servants technically weren’t allowed to use those, though, and even in a dire emergency Maria would prefer to pretend those rooms didn’t exist than get in trouble for occupying one when someone more important might need it.

Though for as much as Maria insisted to herself that she would not need to resort to that, she still knew that if she got permission to leave now, her chances of making it all the way to a pot she _could_ use would be much higher. A one-second stream suddenly breaking free of her hold and leaving an awful wet feeling on her thighs convinced her that she had to take the risk of asking for a break.

So she shuffled over towards the High King, her hands in fists at her sides and legs staying as close together as possible. Maria put one hand on the chair in which her Grace was seated, which she knew she wasn’t supposed to do, and leaned in, marching in place as she whispered.

“I-I’m sorry, your Grace,” she said quickly. “But I really need to leave. It’s… very urgent.”

High King Jacelynne looked over at her, eyes moving from her legs to her red face visibly demonstrating the stress she was under. Her Grace sighed and responded even quieter than Maria’s tense and high-pitched whisper, sounding like she was under a bit of stress herself. Obviously these interruptions were getting annoying. “There is nothing I can do. I can try to get things wrapped up here but you will simply have to be patient.”

Maria simply groaned quietly, then nodded and backed away to her corner again. She felt a single drop of urine trail down one leg, and hoped the hand-sized wet spot between her legs would get no larger.

* * *

Lynne felt bad for Maria, truly. Her bladder certainly did, at least, and was getting to be really rather annoying. She hoped that the meeting could end soon so that her favorite maid could resolve her crisis without embarrassment, and more importantly so that there would be no more Maria potty-dancing at the edge of Lynne’s vision. That should get her own bladder to calm down, at which point there would be no more problem.

She did, after all, have the discipline to never urinate except during her own personal time, which meant she could easily hold it in until she needed to get changed into evening clothes for the dinner that was still several hours away. It was only the sight of another woman struggling with her own liquid burden that was making her uncomfortable. She did not need to pee, and absolutely could suppress any desire to do so until the time was right.

“Gentlemen,” she said suddenly and loudly enough to be heard over the advisors’ bickering. “Have we anything else to report or are you going to waste my time practicing your debate skills?”

The advisors all looked fairly embarrassed for a moment, muttering apologies, until one eventually stood and spoke. “Yes, your Grace, sorry.” Then he cleared his throat and started running through a list of issues.

He was cut off before long, however, by a shriek from the back of the room, and a constant splashing sound. When Lynne turned to check its source, she saw Maria frozen in her corner, hands covering her mouth and tears obviously starting to run down her face. Her legs were trembling, with her knees pressed together and her feet apart. Her tight pants were being saturated by a stream falling to the floor from many sources, including directly between her legs where it was as if her clothes didn’t exist. A puddle was starting to form on the carpet at Maria’s feet where her waters had overwhelmed it.

Lynne’s bladder ached at the sight, so she turned back around and sat red-faced trying to pretend that nothing was happening, though there was no escaping the sounds. The sounds of running water that, though Lynne could absolutely tolerate them, taunted and tempted the High King with relief that she knew would be unavailable to her for some time yet.

Fortunately, it seemed Maria’s bladder wasn’t of a particularly impressive size, and soon all that could be heard was quiet sobbing. When the High King looked over again, Maria was on her knees in her puddle, face buried in her hands.

Lynne stood up quietly, bringing up an arm to point to the door. “All of you. Get out.” The look on her face prompted her entire council to practically run out of the room as respectfully as possible. Then she stepped out from between the chair and table and turned to Maria, who was trying to work her way back up to her feet. “Not you,” Lynne said. “You stay.” Maria fell back to her knees, using one hand to rub at her eyes while the other rested in her puddle.

The High King stepped as close to Maria as she could without getting her feet wet, then dropped into a bit of a squat. Her bladder didn’t much like it, but it didn’t get a vote anyways. “What happened here?” She spoke in her softer personal voice, abandoning her royal tone.

“I-I’m sorry, I tried, really… B-but… I… I couldn’t…” Maria looked up with watery eyes despite her attempts to evict the tears. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

Holding up one hand, Lynne said, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“B-but, your carpet, and… and I… your meeting, and…” Every breath Maria took was a sniffle.

“Don’t worry about it. Just… Take a minute to calm down.”

With a little nod, Maria started taking deep, shaking breaths, which eventually stabilized enough for her to look up at the High King properly. “So… I’m not… You aren’t going to… You aren’t… angry?”

Lynne raised an eyebrow. “Not particularly. I’m a little concerned, actually, because this sort of thing never happens to you.”

Maria just shrugged. “Yeah, I… I don’t know. I went when I woke up and everything and then… It got really bad really fast. It’s weird.”

“Maybe your schedule just got a little messed up and you missed a break or something.”

“No, no,” Maria said, giving her head a little shake. “I never get any breaks until I get to go to lunch, which… Usually that’s not for another hour… And then another hour after that because I, uh… I always just hold it until the break is over.” She shrugged again and added, “Maybe a little earlier if it’s an emergency, but normally I don’t have a problem waiting.”

“Surely you must have done _something_ differently than normal?”

“Well…” Maria looked slowly from side to side and avoided direct eye contact with Lynne. “I kinda… finished off the tea you left behind this morning when I was cleaning up, but… That was it.”

Lynne’s eyes went wide and a flash of rage crossed her face for an instant. “My…” She took a deep breath before speaking again. “Okay, I want you to go wash up and take the rest of the day off. Send someone in here to clean this up, but that’s it. You don’t have to do any more work, just rest and when you turn up in the morning it’ll be like this never happened.” Then she stood up and almost offered Maria her hand, but pulled it back with a red face. “I’d, uh… I’d help you up, but…”

“I’ll get myself up.”

“Good, good. I have to go now, I will see you tomorrow.” Lynne calmly stepped out of the room, letting her anger return slowly as she made her way to Uriel’s council chambers, where he was surely still in the middle of his own meeting. Sure enough, there were guards posted outside the door, and they stepped aside at the High King’s approach.

She opened the door herself and entered the room to find a table populated by the expected advisors and, at the head of the table across the room, her brother. “This meeting is over,” she said flatly. “I need to speak privately with Lord Veltimir.” She knew her brother hated it when she called him that – it was a reminder that she was of higher rank, being the only person in the Commonwealth who could safely refer to a King as a Lord.

The advisors naturally filed out of the room quietly and orderly, while Uriel remained seated, leaning forward with fingers tented and an annoyed look on his face. Lynne stood at the opposite end of the room until the last advisor left and shut the door behind himself, at which point she stormed over to Uriel’s end of the table, slamming a hand down and leaning in uncomfortably close.

“What did you do to my tea?” Her anger was clearly visible in her eyes and audible in her voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Uriel said calmly.

“I think you do,” Lynne growled. “I know about those herbs you got overnight. And just now one of my maids… she _pissed herself_ because she drank half a cup of the tea I had this morning.”

Uriel rolled his eyes. “Maybe she just isn’t used to tea, or she skipped a break or something. How’s her mistake my fault?”

“Because you _poisoned_ the tea. Those plants you got from the alchemist? I know exactly what they do. I know what you’re trying to do.” She shook her head, taking a step back and throwing up her hands. “And what exactly were you expecting would happen anyways? What, am I supposed to wet myself in front of the Blood Court, who, by the way, are _my advisors_ and so convene at _my pleasure_?” She pressed her hands into the sides of her head. “You don’t think I can just _make people leave_ if I don’t want them around? This is _my castle_! Every single person in here answers to _me_!” Lynne pulled the Crown from her head and slammed it against the table, causing some of the more worn-out gold plating to fall off and reveal the bronze underneath. “And that includes you, _Lord Veltimir_! Enough of these games! I don’t know what I have to do to get you to stop acting like a little bitch…” The Crown, having pointed bits along the bottom, put up a little resistance when Lynne tried to pull it from the table, but not enough that she could not remove it. “But this is mine.” She waved the Crown a little bit before putting it back on her head. “And for as long as it’s mine, you have to respect that.”

Uriel put both hands on the table and pushed himself up to a standing position. “I don’t have to respect _anything_ ,” he said. “You are a _woman_. I will show you the respect you deserve _as my sister_ but you are _unfit_ to bear _any_ crown. In fact, _because_ I respect you as my sister, I cannot respect this violation of the natural order.” He held both his hands together and spoke a little more calmly. “You should be making full use of your talents, not wasting them trying to interfere in a field that you simply do not have the skills for.”

“What are you talking about? We both got the _same_ stewardship training. We learned the _same_ decorum. And we _both_ learned from _our father_. We have _exactly_ the same skills, in terms of governance anyways… And you seriously think that your… _manhood_ makes you more qualified than me?”

“Well, of course it does.” Uriel put up his hands as if he were surprised he needed to state such an obvious truth. “We have the same education but women just cannot apply that knowledge to governance as effectively as men. That’s just how it is. That’s _why_ you can’t inherit anything in this Kingdom. That’s _why_ you need to take up a more feminine role, so you can use your skills properly.”

Lynne shook her head. “What is _wrong_ with you? What do I have to do to pr-”

She was cut off by a messenger suddenly barging into the room. “Your Grace!”

The High King turned around and shouted, “What?!” Then she took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. “What is it?”

“Um… A matter has come up, and… Your immediate attention is required, your Grace.”

Lynne held out her hands in a questioning manner. “What could be so important that you think you can disrupt a private conversation?”

“An… enemy King has arrived, your Grace.”

Both the High King and her brother looked shocked. Lynne even turned to Uriel and muttered to him, “So that’s what that truce was for.”

Uriel’s surprised expression turned into one of cautious optimism. “Do you think he’s here to surrender and join us?”

“I’m going to find out,” Lynne said, following the messenger back to the throne room.

Her entrance was, of course, accompanied by a declaration of her titles, and she walked calmly and regally to her throne, upon which she sat with impeccable posture. Uriel had followed her to the throne room, but rather than taking his own seat he watched from the sidelines between some guards.

On the throne room floor a man approached. He was dressed almost entirely in ceremonial armor, though instead of a helm a crown sat on his head, and an ornate cape flowed down his back. When he reached the appropriate distance from the High King, this King drew his sword from his belt and thrust it to the floor, holding it upright with both hands on the pommel.

“High King Jacelynne,” he said with a ridiculous accent. “I am the King Valadin Akinitos of Selokarath, Third of this name. I stand before you… On behalf of my people…” He took a deep breath. “To offer the total surrender of the Kingdom of Selokarath to your Commonwealth.” Then he picked up his sword and knelt, holding up the sword with both hands as an offering.

Lynne tried to keep her face from showing her surprise. The war with Selokarath had been favorable, sure, but it certainly wasn’t shaping up to be a decisive Commonwealth victory. She’d been expecting to take a little bit of land, not _the entire Kingdom_. Of course she wouldn’t object to such a remarkable turn of events. It was just surprising.

She rose from her throne, tensing up for a second when her bladder reminded her of its presence and now quite intense desire to be drained. Without the adrenaline that had fueled her argument with Uriel, there was nothing suppressing the need anymore. But as always she forced herself to look royal and impressive, knowing that as a monarch her bladder answered to her, and would wait until she, not it, decided it was time to relive herself.

So she descended the few steps that led up to her throne and walked up to King Valadin, with her hands behind her back and her posture as formal as was humanly possible. Lynne stopped just close enough to him to take his sword. “Valadin Akinitos,” she said, maneuvering the sword to hold it with its tip against the ground and her hands on its pommel just as he had. “We accept your surrender.” She stood staring straight forwards while her people cheered and applauded until they were silenced a minute or so later.

“You will now negotiate the terms of your realm’s annexation into ours. Once you have signed this agreement, you will present yourself to us again and appropriate action will be taken.” Then she went back to the Throne, handing the sword off to a guard along the way.

Climbing the steps back to her seat left Lynne with no doubt that her bladder was indeed getting quite full. Sitting back down and having the opportunity to covertly cross her legs helped, but it was starting to get uncomfortable. Of course she couldn’t just leave to take care of herself – it would take too long to head back to her chambers, get undressed, urinate, get dressed again, and only then return to the Bleeding Throne. Not like that would be an issue; she had important business here, and that came before anything her body might want.

There was going to be some downtime, though. Lynne looked around the room to find something interesting, but had no such luck. There was a crowd that had gathered to witness the surrender, but by now Valadin was in a separate chamber with some of Lynne’s top diplomats. She squeezed her crossed legs together a little tighter to try to ease the pressure inside of her.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since breakfast, but it certainly wasn’t long enough to feel like this without the effect of Uriel’s diuretics. Before long she would definitely be in a highly uncomfortable position, but again she reminded herself that it wouldn’t matter. After all, her bladder could always just find more room to stretch and accommodate more fluids, no matter how full or close to bursting she felt. Lynne could still recall one particular evening, where she’d suffered through a lengthy social event from sundown until midnight, drinking and laughing and sharing stories, pretending that her bladder which hadn’t been emptied since that morning had not been burning and aching as if stretched to its limit. She had sworn Maria to secrecy when her disrobing revealed a wet spot the size of her hand on her underclothes, but otherwise she had been perfectly capable of waiting back then, so she could wait just as long now if she needed to.

Lynne did have to admit that her dress was starting to feel a little tight around her abdomen despite all that. Her bladder would be hard-pressed to find room to grow, but it would find all the space it needed one way or another, for she would command it to. One of her feet started to shake impatiently as she waited for Valadin’s return, but she forced it to stop. It had only done so because she had been thinking about relieving herself, so she resolved to not do that so as to not tempt herself at all with what was currently out of reach and would be for the foreseeable future.

She called over the nearest servant, who happened to be carrying a tray of cheese and several cups of wine. When he arrived, she instructed him to set the tray down on Uriel’s throne, taking for herself some wine and a handful of cheese. After taking a sip, she set the cup down on her throne’s armrest and tried to strike up a conversation with the servant.

It was an awkward conversation, to be sure, but even so Lynne managed to get the servant talking about his family and plans for the future. He even mentioned that he wanted to learn to read someday, and maybe even take on magic. Lynne nodded with genuine interest as he spoke, taking in this description of the life of someone with so much less than her like a child hearing a fairy tale.

But eventually he was drawn away by other people’s requests for the things on his tray, and left to tend to them – after getting permission to leave the High King’s presence, of course. So for a time Lynne sat in silence, her bladder quietly growing more restless. The wine she’d downed a little too enthusiastically was absolutely not helping, and she was starting to question why she had taken a second cup after finishing the first.

And yet she worked on getting through the second cup despite having no good reason to have it in the first place, and indeed having endless reasons to dispose of it. But she’d already committed to drinking it, so she had to keep up appearances. She kept quietly scanning the room while she drank, in case anything interesting were to happen, and in so doing she saw something she didn’t expect.

Maria had appeared in the throne room in entirely different clothes than what she’d been wearing earlier, and was starting a round of checking in on everyone and ensuring that everyone had all that they needed. Lynne watched her intently for a while, and it seemed that the maid wasn’t aware that she was being watched. Not until she happened to turn around and finally noticed the High King. Her face went red and she looked nervous when Lynne motioned for her to approach the throne.

Lynne waited for Maria to bow upon coming close enough, and when the maid said nothing Lynne spoke up herself. “I thought I told you that you didn’t need to do any more work today.”

“I know, you did, but…” Maria was wringing her hands while she spoke. “After I took a bath I tried to just relax but I got restless. I needed _something_ to do so I figured I’d just do my job. Besides, it’s not like I got hurt or sick or anything. Still kind of embarrassing to have… you know… in front of your Grace and your council but…” She interrupted herself with a nervous chuckle. “I can forget about it if I have something to do.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” Lynne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the cloth draped over the Bleeding Throne moving with her. “I must ask that you stay close, though. I could do with having a few people around that I can trust.”

Maria stepped down from the throne pedestal with a bow. “Of course, your Grace.” Then she turned and lost herself in the crowd milling about the throne room.

Meanwhile, while Maria had the privilege of disappearing, Lynne was trapped in her highly-visible seat upon a raised platform with nothing else near it. And that meant that she could do nothing to soothe her bladder besides just crossing her legs. But just that didn’t feel like enough. Of course Lynne knew that it was the only dignified option and as a proper lady she shouldn’t even consider doing anything else, but she now had a definite need to urinate and for the first time in her life was actually starting to doubt her royal endurance.

It was always just an urge, after all. Never a true need, just a feeling, sometimes extremely strong, that she was due for a bathroom break at some point. But now? Now it was really starting to go beyond that. Lynne had been getting too full too fast all day, and while she was still trying to tell herself that she could hold as much as she needed for as long as she needed, she knew that her bladder had its limits and that she would discover where those limits were before the end of the day.

But for now all she could do was just keep her legs tied up as tightly as possible without making her distress obvious to others. Not that this audience of nobles and soldiers – which really had appeared out of nowhere, clearly inspired to come to the castle by news of an enemy King’s arrival – wouldn’t understand her present struggles, considering every last one of them was almost definitely in a situation much like hers, only of a lesser magnitude.

Even so they would still think less of her for it. Such needs were personal, after all. Displaying them in public would surely be a sign of weakness, for any proper individual would not bend to the will of their body. Especially not a ruler. How could anyone expect to command the respect of vassals and subjects if they couldn’t even control themselves?

No, it was an interesting fantasy, being able to grab at herself and perform all sorts of awkward dances to suppress her overfilled bladder, but it was not something she could ever make reality. At least, hopefully it wouldn’t come to that anyways.

Lynne looked around impatiently for any sign that Valadin would be returning soon, but found no such thing. What concerned her more than that, though, was that she could not see Uriel. Her distress was part of his plan, after all, and if she couldn’t keep track of what he was doing then she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t about to make things worse for her.

And then Maria suddenly appeared at her side. “Excuse me, your Grace,” she said quietly, making Lynne jump a little in her seat and turn to look over at the maid. “King Uriel said he was concerned that you might not be getting enough to drink.” Maria shifted the wine-laden tray she was holding to make a point.

The High King raised an eyebrow and looked at the wine, then at Maria’s face before hesitantly reaching out and taking a cup. “Uriel sent you, hm?”

“Yes, your Grace,” Maria said with a bow of her head. She watched the High King swirl her wine around and look at it indecisively. “Um, excuse me, but… there isn’t anything wrong, is there?”

“Uh…” Lynne looked around cautiously to ensure nobody else was around. “To be honest,” she started, leaning in towards Maria to speak quietly, prompting a complaint from her bladder. “And do not tell this to anyone, especially not Uriel, but…” She shifted around in her seat a little more. “I am actually rather in need of a toilet right about now.” One of her feet wiggled around for emphasis.

“Oh, well, uh…” Maria blushed and avoided looking the High King in the eye. “That, uh… that does seem… inconvenient.”

Lynne nodded and started on her wine, despite not really wanting to. “Yeah. Turns out Uriel put something in my tea, so…” She shrugged and took another careful sip. “So basically I really have to go.”

“Well that would explain… things…” Maria shook her head. “Ah, there… isn’t anything I can do to help, is there?”

“The only thing that’s going to help right now is if you were to go get a towel to shove up my skirt, and we can’t do that with all these people around to see.” Lynne sighed. “I’m sure I will be fine. It’s only one ceremony for whatever this King agrees to and a few hours of socializing. Nothing I cannot handle.” Her legs squeezed even tighter together while she let out a quiet groan through a closed mouth. The fingers on her free hand were continually rapping against the Throne’s armrest.

“Of course,” Maria said with a slight bow. “So, err, is there anything I _can_ do for you?”

The High King gave a dismissive little wave and for some reason continued drinking her wine. “Not right now. Go hand out the rest of those drinks, then… Come back here, I suppose. I would really appreciate having someone to talk to.”

Maria bowed her head and backed away quietly, disappearing once more into the crowd, leaving Lynne alone with her thoughts once again. Her thoughts and a cup of wine she wanted absolutely nothing to do with, but which she had to keep drinking anyways to maintain her dignified appearance.

Who even came up with all these rules anyways? Did someone just wake up one day and decide that nobility are supposed to transcend basic human needs? Lynne had no problem understanding that rulers had to at least _look_ powerful and important. But in times like this she couldn’t help but question what value there was in pushing one’s own body to such ridiculous extremes. Every single person would understand the need to eat and sleep and urinate. So why was it so important for nobility to put on this ridiculous façade that they were somehow above such needs? To pretend that, despite being at a formal gathering for six hours and downing many, many glasses of wine over that time, one’s bladder was _not_ in fact preparing to burst into their pants? How had it become such a sin for nobility to just excuse themselves for some vague reason and say they would be back in a minute?

If nothing else, Lynne just wanted to know why she was stuck sitting on the Bleeding Throne when she could be sitting on a toilet at that very moment. If she knew precisely why it would be wrong of her to take a few minutes to take care of herself, it might help her keep those two things from becoming one and the same.

But for now, having no such answer, all the High King could do was fidget subtly and in silence. She downed the rest of her wine as quickly as possible, just to get it over with, and groaned quietly. Her hands moved to her lap where they discreetly felt for where all of her drinks were pressing up against her clothes. There was definitely a bit of curvature there, and everything felt uncomfortably tense in that general area. Lynne sighed, now wishing she’d opted for a looser dress. If nothing else her bladder would be able to expand more if there weren’t tight fabric holding it back, and it would be easier to hide such a distension under more freely-flowing clothes.

Though yet again Lynne had to wonder if anyone would really be able to criticize her for having a bit of a bump around her belly – all these nobles and soldiers were surely sporting their own and ought to have the grace to not be hypocritical.

Lynne ran her hands over her thighs and took a deep breath. Her arms folded and she started looking around impatiently – it shouldn’t take this long to negotiate terms of a surrender. The only thing of interest she found was her maid returning to her, stopping at the top of the steps up to the throne to bow before taking up an awkward position standing near the three seats and trying to keep herself from touching any of them.

“I just want today to be over,” Lynne muttered. “I just want to be able to _pee_.”

Maria just nodded nervously.

“Ah, never mind that.” The High King motioned towards Maria with one hand. “We need to talk about something else. What has my brother been telling you about me today?”

“Uh, nothing much.” Maria’s hands were up by her chest and interacting with each other fairly randomly. “Really King Uriel has just been saying that he’s worried you might be getting sick and that I should make sure that you get enough to drink, things like that.”

“You really believed that?”

“I don’t have a choice, your Grace. I just follow orders. I don’t consider whether I believe what you and King Uriel tell me.”

Lynne nodded. “Fair.” She handed over her empty wine cup. “The only thing I’m getting sick of right now is his nonsense.” Her lower half wiggled around for a moment. “Though I have to admit this was just a little bit clever. I’m going to make myself look like an idiot because I can hardly think of anything other than how badly I need to go for a piss.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, your Grace? I can… I don’t know, I can find something to help you, maybe.”

“I will be fine,” Lynne said flatly. “I need to be. And, anyways, what could you possibly do to help?”

Maria shrugged. “I’m not sure. I could get a tray of wine and… trip on the steps up to the throne…”

Lynne let out a pained little chuckle. “That is an interesting idea. I am tempted to tell you to go ahead with it but I really don’t want to get this dress stained with _anything_.” She tied her legs together a little tighter, both hands grabbing the edges of the throne’s armrests. “And besides, no amount of wine would cover up the puddle.”

“Huh. Okay. Um… I don’t suppose you could, maybe, just… go behind the throne? There are pots and, you know, things.”

“You would need to strip me naked for that,” Lynne said with a shake of her head. “And that whole process will take too long… and there are people everywhere who might want to know where I’ve disappeared to.” Shifting around some more in her seat, she added, “Honestly, there is nothing you can do. The most help you can be to me right now is if we talk about anything other than this.”

Maria nodded quietly for a moment. “Right. Um… Might I ask what your Grace’s husband is doing now?”

Lynne leaned back in her seat and tried to get comfortable. “Ah, now there’s a good topic. _High Lord Reivas_. Quite the title, isn’t it? He is, as I understand it, at home. And I use ‘at home’ loosely, because I am certain he is nowhere near his family’s own castle.” She uncrossed her legs, pressed them together, then crossed them the other way around. “If I know Reivas, he is certainly in bed with some nobleman right about now.” With a scoff she added, “Figures that my parents would marry me to someone who has no interest at all in producing heirs. Ah, but he comes from good stock, House Andradon, very important vassals, so I just have to tolerate the fact that I can’t get him to so much as lay a hand on me when he actually _is_ around.”

Maria seemed shocked and was briefly speechless. “Ah,” she started eventually. “I was not aware your relationship was so… strained.”

“Eh.” Lynne shrugged. “It’s not like he is a bad person. But he has an obligation and I am just very annoyed that he would rather seek the company of other men than fulfill that obligation.”

“Do excuse me, but I imagine it must be very difficult for him to… involve himself with you. You are not, uh… his type. Right?”

“Right, but… he has to at least _try_. I do not particularly care how many other beds he gets into, or whose beds they are, so long as I have an heir. As long as he at least makes an attempt to give me one, he can do whomever he wants.” Resting a hand on her distended bladder, Lynne groaned and squeezed her legs together with so much force that they started to shake. “By the light, I need to go to the bathroom so bad… Oh, fuck me, I need to piss...” She drew a few heavy breaths, eased up on her legs, and then said, “Ugh, anyways, the only thing that keeps me from calling the nearest servant or soldier into my chambers is the fact that there is no way that I could pretend that a bastard is actually Revias’s child. His preferences are common knowledge after all.”

Maria bowed her head. “It does sound like a very uncomfortable situation.”

“Uncomfortable situation?” Lynne muttered loud enough for Maria to hear. “No, but this certainly is. I really do wish there were something you could do to help, because… I seriously feel like I am about to burst.”

Lynne let out a long groan, cut off by a call announcing the appearance of one King Valadin. Maria bowed and took a few steps to the side, and Lynne herself groaned and stood up. The shift in gravity caused her to let out a little squirt of urine into her smallclothes, wet, warm, and an uncomfortable reminder of how much more yet remained in her body. Still, she maintained her best posture, standing straight with her hands folded behind her back. The only thing keeping it from being perfect was her legs being pressed together under her dress.

She glanced over at Maria, who was still at her side. “I just peed a little,” she whispered. “I really don’t know if I can make it through this.”

Maria simply backed away, mouthing “You’ll be fine” before hiding near the corner of Uriel’s throne to keep herself out of the way of a servant rushing up to the High King.

This new servant hastily summarized the terms to which Valadin and Lynne’s diplomats had agreed, then backed away just as quickly. Lynne then raised a hand to summon the guard who had taken Valadin’s sword, and when she had it in hand she stood it up with its point against the ground and both hands on the pommel.

“Valadin Akinitos,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “What have you to offer us?” She looked straight down at him, and he was looking right back. Lynne was glad that he could not see through clothing, for she felt a little trickle run briefly down one leg before being cut off.

Valadin took the crown from his head and got on one knee, holding the crown out in both hands to present it to the High King. “We offer fealty,” he said.

Lynne took a deep breath, then descended the steps from the throne pedestal to the floor, Valadin’s sword in hand. Every other step caused a little more liquid to seep out and stain her underwear. When she got close enough to Valadin, she quickly touched his sword to each of his shoulders, then carefully grabbed it by the blade and held it in front of her.

“Rise,” she said. He complied silently, still holding his crown, and she offered him his sword back with one hand and held out the other as if to receive something.

All at once he took back his sword and held out his crown, which Lynne then took for herself, holding it in both hands while she felt a stream fill her smallclothes for several seconds, spilling out into her pants as an incredibly uncomfortable trail of warmth.

She took a deep breath and pretended to cough before speaking again – which turned out to be a mistake, as the fake cough just forced a little more out of her bladder. “Kneel,” she said, and Valadin again dropped to one knee, this time holding up his sword and pressing it into the ground. She put his own crown back on his head, and then turned to go back up to the throne.

With no more need to carry anything in her hands, Lynne had them balled up in fists at her sides, and her legs shook slightly as she walked. Each step up to the throne pedestal caused a little more urine to dribble out into her wet underclothes, but she was fortunately able to stop relieving herself once she reached the top and turned around.

Now she had her legs tightly crossed beneath her dress, and she was trying her hardest not to start bouncing and grabbing herself like a little girl. Or perhaps like a sixteen-year-old princess whose mother had dragged her past every bathroom in the building despite her constant pleading that she be allowed to use one and her insistence that it was an emergency; whose request had finally been accepted only because she had been caught lifting her dress to use an improvised toilet after feeling one wet trail too many snake down her legs; who by then was too far away from the nearest _real_ toilet to make it in time. She was desperately hoping that she wouldn’t need to repeat that experience. It had been merely nine years ago, and it was the only time Lynne could recall having a full-blown accident. There had been many near-accidents, especially early on in her etiquette training, but her bladder had only properly burst into her clothes that one time. Now, what was left of her fading optimism was directed at the slim chance that today might not become the second.

Her breathing was becoming ragged and labored, though still she found a way to speak clearly. “V-Valadin Akinitos,” she said with far less confidence than she intended, though miraculously maintaining an authoritative tone. “We name you… King Valadin Akinitos, and… and we declare you now to be…” She hoped her pauses sounded more like they were intentionally placed for dramatic effect and did not clearly reflect her dire condition. “To be a vassal and servant… of the High King Jacelynne Veltimir… bearing the rank of King of the Commonwealth…” She shut her eyes for a moment and quietly groaned as she felt a significant burst saturate her pants, hoping that nobody else could hear the tiny splashing of several drops hitting the stone ground.

When her eyes opened again, she drew a sharp breath through her teeth. “You,” she said almost as a loud whisper, correcting herself to continue. “You shall reign… over the Commonwealth Realm Selokarath. And…” She trailed off and suddenly tensed every muscle in her body. “And, uh…” Lynne tried to continue speaking, but could not find any words. Her arms and legs were trembling and her bladder was pulsing fiercely. “And… A-aaugh…” She shut her eyes and tipped her head up with a pained groan as she felt the waves in her bladder turn into waves in her pants, intermittent but powerful bursts of urine that she was powerless to stop.

Though she could hear no more than her own heavy breathing and the splashing beneath her, which in her mind was deafening, she knew everyone in the throne room was watching and reacting to the scene unfolding before them.

Left with no other options, Lynne simply sighed and uncrossed her legs, dropping her feet into a slightly spread position and surrendering to her body. The rapid spurts turned into a cascade almost immediately, running both through and down her pants. She kept her hands at her sides and resisted the temptation to press on herself with her hands, as there was certainly no way to stop anymore and it seemed her dress was mostly avoiding the flood without her interference.

She simply stood shaking, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed and head angled as if to look up at the ceiling. She was stuck in her own little world, hearing and seeing nothing and feeling only warmth – a wet warmth down her legs, and a much more serene warmth everywhere else as her whole body told her that she was meant to enjoy the relief. And perhaps there was just a touch of shame at having soaked herself in front of so many people during such an important event, but finally being able to empty her bladder mattered more than that right now.

The feeling of absolute necessity being replaced by absolute bliss was more important now than anything else. More than the morbid sensation of clothes that were already form-fitting clinging even tighter to her skin, more than all the eyes on her, more than her status, her titles, her image. The only thing that mattered was that she had needed to pee, and now she was simply doing what she had to.

Lynne’s puddle spread far enough to start snaking its way down the steps from the throne pedestal, and what was running down her legs was soaking her socks and leaving her standing in not just a puddle on the floor, but one within her own shoes as well.

For some time she stood like this, even once the splashing below her turned into quiet pattering and then stopped entirely, rogue drops still snaking their way down her legs while she just kept breathing as she had been. Eventually she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked straight forwards.

She calmly folded her hands behind her back and adjusted her stance to appear more formal. Breathing deep again, she said, “Aaaaand we name you the Lord of House Akinitos. Any questions?”

“Uh…” King Valadin just stared at Lynne and stammered aimlessly. “You, uh… Did… Eh, you… You’re, um… Uh-huh…” Then he trailed off.

Lynne nodded, forcing herself to keep standing despite her legs feeling too weak to support her. “Yes,” she said slowly, clearly exhausted. “Yes, I have.” She took slow, deliberate breaths. “And… I stand before you, in this state, as your High King. No more.”

“I don’t understand,” Valadin said.

The High King looked him right in the eye. “I am but human,” she said, “And I rule by right of blood. The blood of man. I can claim no divine right; no spirit has crowned me. No greater power commands me.”

Valadin just stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“No greater power commands any of us,” she continued. “And… as part of this Commonwealth, this you must understand.” She took a deep breath before elaborating. “No divine heritage or holy prerogative separates a monarch from their people. We all are born of man – fallible man. As such, as High King, I cannot claim perfection or superiority. And I ask, as fellow man, that you claim no such thing either.” Lynne paused to breathe again. “As a King your duty is to your people, and to best serve this duty you must understand that you are _of_ your people, as I am of mine.”

“Yes,” Valadin said. “Yes, of course.”

“The right to rule comes from strength,” Lynne said. “That of ourselves and of our mortal ancestors. Those stronger than us themselves have the right to take our power as their own. And…” Another deep breath before carrying on. “There is no greater strength than humility. Remember that you are man. You are imperfect. As are we all.”

“Absolutely.” Valadin bowed deeply.

“Now then,” Lynne said, backing up to fall into her throne. “Remember this, Lord Akinitos. Remember this and return to your people. Serve them such that you might serve me.”

Bowing again, this time silently, Valadin backed away and eventually turned to leave. His retinue followed him out, and the remaining nobles dispersed, unsure of what else to do and not wanting to insult the High King by overstaying their welcome. Servants quickly approached the throne to clean the puddle and trail Lynne had left on the floor, and Maria came directly to her.

“Are you alright, your Grace?”

Lynne groaned in response. “Uhr… Did that work?”

“Did… what work?” Maria simply hovered around the High King and tried to find any ways to make her more comfortable.

“I pulled that entire speech out of my ass,” Lynne admitted. “Couldn’t just stand there in wet clothes without saying something. First thing that came to mind was that it would be better to try to downplay it rather than just ordering everyone to leave.”

“Oh, well… you certainly sounded… confident.”

“Yeah, sometimes all you need is to sound confident. I think it worked. I sounded royal and whatever, right?”

“I would say so.”

“Good, good…” Lynne stood and pawed at her dress, especially the backside which had been quickly soaked by the excess moisture in her pants when she sat down. “This is getting uncomfortable,” she said flatly, now looking at her hands and the gloves that had been stained yellow from interacting with her wet dress. “I need to take a bath.”

* * *

Uriel watched, stunned, as his sister walked quietly out of the throne room, leaning a little into Maria for support. His plan had worked _perfectly_ … until she decided to ruin it by somehow managing to twist the event into a lecture on humility.

And it seemed to be quite well-received – everyone seemed to believe she’d had an accident on purpose just to make a point. The worst part was she was absolutely right and every word she’d said had been what too many people had been too afraid to tell the Kings: That they were humans, imperfect, and they all had their limits. Even the High King.

But rather than being angry at her for ruining his plans, Uriel actually felt somewhat humbled. All he’d managed to do was give his sister an opportunity to prove her strength. She had been confident in the face of what almost anyone else would consider a disaster. She sounded like a true leader, like someone who could inspire in others the desire to make the world around them greater.

She had certainly inspired Uriel to come to a realization that he should have reached years ago: that his sister _was_ a leader. She was no soldier, but she had the bravery and wisdom to face and overcome any challenge.

She was a woman, yes. But she had done what was supposed to be unthinkable for anyone of her status. She had done it and she had turned it into a lesson for all of those fools who had thought the High King to be above mortal issues. She had demonstrated that the High King – _any_ King – was in truth no greater than any of the men they ruled.

And it seemed that in doing so she had not caused her nobles and her vassals to lose the respect they had for her as Uriel had anticipated. No, it seemed that she had only caused them to respect her _more_ , or at the very least to better understand her position and how little it differed from any of theirs.

That, in Uriel’s mind, was enough. Jacelynne Veltimir was the rightful High King. She had proven to him that he was wrong – she was fit to rule, and he had lacked the humility and grace to be a proper leader. He had thought himself better simply because of the luck of his birth, and he now could see that in trying to prove this he had lost sight of what was really important.

And now he knew what he would have to do to apologize to her.

* * *

The throne room was practically deserted when Lynne took her seat the next day, well-rested and ready to forget what she had endured the day before. She hadn’t seen Uriel since dinner, and figured that he was still hiding away, ashamed that she had outplayed his scheme.

And then he entered the throne room, silently, through the front doors instead of one of the side passages as he normally would. He walked slowly with his hands folded behind his back as was proper, and stopped short of the steps up to the throne.

Uriel looked up briefly at his sister, who simply watched him with a raised eyebrow. And then she leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide, questioning whether he was truly doing what she thought he was. She stood up and rubbed at her eyes, and looked down at Uriel again, and sure enough, he was on one knee, looking down at the floor and saying nothing.

So she walked down the steps to meet him, and reached down to put a hand on his shoulder. This prompted him to rise, and the two stood facing each other for a moment.

“Does this mean you’re ready to stop being a pain in my ass?” Lynne spoke with a deadpan tone, but in her eyes it was clear that it was a joke.

Uriel responded, with the same voice, “I can’t stop being your brother.”

Lynne covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, then she held out both arms. “Ah, come on, get over here, asshole,” she said, wrapping her arms around her brother with wet eyes.


End file.
